'What do you seek in the house of a Bishop?' challenged August Naab, planting his broad bulk square before Hare.
'Dene's spy!'
'What do you seek in the house of a Bishop?' repeated Naab.
'I shore want to see the young feller you lied to me about,' returned Dene, his smile slowly fading.
'No speech could be a lie to an outlaw.'
'I want him, you Mormon preacher!'
'You can't have him.'
'I'll shore get him.'
In one great stride Naab confronted and towered over Dene.
The rustler's gaze shifted warily from Naab to the quiet Mormons and back again. Then his right hand quivered and shot downward. Naab's act was even quicker. A Colt gleamed and whirled to the grass, and the outlaw cried as his arm cracked in the Mormon's grasp
Dave Naab leaped off the bank directly in front of Dene's approaching companions, and faced them, alert and silent, his hand on his hip.
August Naab swung the outlaw against the porch-post and held him there with brawny arm.
'Whelp of an evil breed!' he thundered, shaking his gray head. 'Do you think we fear you and your gunsharp tricks? Look! See this!' He released Dene and stepped back with his hand before him. Suddenly it moved, quicker than sight, and a Colt revolver lay in his outstretched palm. He dropped it back into the holster.' Let that teach you never to draw on me again.' He doubled his huge fist and shoved it before Dene's eyes.'One blow would crack your skull like an egg-shell. Why don't I deal it? Because, you mindless hell-hound, because there s a higher law than man's–God's law–Thou shalt not kill! Understand that if you can. Leave me and mine alone from this day. Now go!'
He pushed Dene down the path into the arms of his companions.
'Out with you!' said Dave Naab.' Hurry! Get your horse. Hurry! I'm not so particular about God as Dad is!'
III - The Trail Of The Red Wall
After the departure of Dene and his comrades Naab decided to leave White Sage at nightfall. Martin Cole and the Bishop's sons tried to persuade him to remain, urging that the trouble sure to come could be more safely met in the village. Naab, however, was obdurate, unreasonably so, Cole said, unless there were some good reason why he wished to strike the trail in the night. When twilight closed in Naab had his teams ready and the women shut in the canvas-covered wagons. Hare was to ride in an open wagon, one that Naab had left at White Sage to be loaded with grain. When it grew so dark that objects were scarcely discernible a man vaulted the cottage fence.
'Dave, where are the boys?' asked Naab.
'Not so loud! The boys are coming,' replied Dave in a whisper. 'Dene is wild. I guess you snapped a bone in his arm. He swears he'll kill us all. But Chance and the rest of the gang won't be in till late. We've time to reach the Coconina Trail, if we hustle.'
'Any news of Snap?'
'He rode out before sundown.'
Three more forms emerged from the gloom.'
All right, boys. Go ahead, Dave, you lead.'
Dave and George Naab mounted their mustangs and rode through the gate; the first wagon rolled after them, its white dome gradually dissolving in the darkness; the second one started; then August Naab stepped to his seat on the third with a low cluck to the team. Hare shut the gate and climbed over the tail-board of the wagon.
A slight swish of weeds and grasses brushing the wheels was all the sound made in the cautious advance. A bare field lay to the left; to the right low roofs and sharp chimneys showed among the trees; here and there lights twinkled. No one hailed; not a dog barked.
Presently the leaders turned into a road where the iron hoofs and wheels cracked and crunched the stones.
Hare thought he saw something in the deep shade of a line of poplar-trees; he peered closer, and made out a motionless horse and rider, just a shade blacker than the deepest gloom. The next instant they vanished, and the rapid clatter of hoofs down the road told Hare his eyes had not deceived him.
'Getup,' growled Naab to his horses. 'Jack, did you see that fellow?'
'Yes. What was he doing there?'
'Watching the road. He's one of Dene's scouts.'
'Will Dene–'
One of Naab's sons came trotting back. 'Think that was Larsen's pal. He was laying in wait for Snap.'
'I thought he was a scout for Dene,' replied August.
'Maybe he's that too.'
'Likely enough. Hurry along and keep the gray team going lively. They've had a week's rest.'
Hare watched the glimmering lights of the village vanish one by one, like Jack-o'-lanterns. The horses kept a steady, even trot on into the huge windy hall of the desert night. Fleecy clouds veiled the stars, yet transmitted a wan glow. A chill crept over Hare. As he crawled under the blankets Naab had spread for him his hand came into contact with a polished metal surface cold as ice. It was his rifle. Naab had placed it under the blankets. Fingering the rifle Hare found the spring opening on the right side of the breech, and, pressing it down, he felt the round head of a cartridge. Naab had loaded the weapon, he had placed it where Hare's hand must find it, yet he had not spoken of it. Hare did not stop to reason with his first impulse. Without a word, with silent insistence, disregarding his shattered health, August Naab had given hen a man's part to play. The full meaning lifted Hare out of his self- abasement; once more he felt himself a man.
Hare soon yielded to the warmth of the blankets; a drowsiness that he endeavored in vain to throw off smothered his thoughts; sleep glued his eyelids tight. They opened again some hours later. For a moment he could not realize where he was; then the whip of the cold wind across his face, the woolly feel and smell of the blankets, and finally the steady trot of horses and the clink of a chain swinging somewhere under him, recalled the actually of the night ride. He wondered how many miles had been covered, how the drivers knew the direction and kept the horses in the trail, and whether the outlaws were in pursuit. When Naab stopped the team and, climbing down, walked back some rods to listen, Hare felt sure that Dene was coming. He listened, too, but the movements of the horses and the rattle of their harness were all the sounds he could hear.
Naab returned to his seat; the team started, now no longer in a trot; they were climbing. After that Hare fell into a slumber in which he could hear the slow grating whirr of wheels, and when it ceased he awoke to raise himself and turn his ear to the back trail. By-and-by he discovered that the black night had changed to gray; dawn was not far distant; he dozed and awakened to clear light. A rose-red horizon lay far below and to the eastward; the intervening descent was like a rolling sea with league-long swells.
'Glad you slept some,' was Naab's greeting.' No sign of Dene yet. If we can get over the divide we're safe. That's Coconina there, Fire Mountain in Navajo meaning. It's a plateau low and narrow at this end, but it runs far to the east and rises nine thousand feet. It forms a hundred miles of the north rim of the Grand Canyon. We're across the Arizona line now.'
Hare followed the sweep of the ridge that rose to the eastward, but to his inexperienced eyes its appearance carried no sense of its noble proportions.
'Don't form any ideas of distance and size yet a while,' said Naab, reading Hare's expression. 'They'd only have to be made over as soon as you learn what light and air are in this country. It looks only half a mile to the top of the divide; well, if we make it by midday we're lucky. There, see a black spot over this way, far under the red wall? Look sharp. Good I That's Holderness's ranch. It's thirty miles from here. Nine Mile Valley heads in there. Once it belonged to Martin Cole. Holderness stole it. And he's begun to range over the divide.'
The sun rose and warmed the chill air. Hare began to notice the increased height and abundance of the sagebrush, which was darker in color. The first cedar-tree, stunted in growth, dead at the top, was the half-way mark up the ascent, so Naab said; it was also the forerunner of other cedars which increased in number toward the summit. At length Hare, tired of looking upward at the creeping white wagons, closed his eyes. The wheels
